Withdrawal

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story is based on real life experience. No names will be mentioned in the story, in attempt to keep the matter private. All what I can tell you is that this story means a lot to me, and it means a lot for our MC, especially because they are still struggling to get through.

This story is about the first day during withdrawal.

Submitted: May 27, 2014

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Submitted: May 27, 2014

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Author's Note

This story is based on real life experience. No names will be mentioned in the story, in attempt to keep the matter private. All what I can tell you is that this story means a lot to me, and it means a lot for our MC, especially because they are still struggling to get through.

This story is about the first day during withdrawal.

Enjoy ~

I woke up to the two worst sensations ever; a buring feeling both up my esophagus and down my colon, telling me that I have diarrhea and that vomit is about to explode out of my mouth. I squirmed in my bed for a while.

The pain was excrutating.

When I couldn't hold it in any longer, I hurled myself to the bathroom.

A minute later, with pain shooting through my abdomen, I started to heave, except nothing came up. No matter how much the liquid burned, nothing came out. Another pulse of pain sent me running back to my bed to curl up in my ton of a comforter.

I don't want to go to school, no more like, I can't, whined a voice in my head. It seemed impossible for me to even stand staight on my own two feet.

When Mum came to wake me up, I was shaking from both pain and fear. My mother is a ferocious woman, there was no way I would let her know about this. There is no way I would tell her that I got addicted to pain killers. What will she think of me? Will she see me as a junkie? Will she even believe me? Will she scold me? Hug me? Yell at me? Scoff? Punish me? Comfort me? Will she say "I told you so" and leave me? There were other things that were so much worse. I shuddered. There was no telling what she'll do, no telling how she'll react, which made matters even worse, and I paled.

I pretended that I had caught the stomach flu and stayed home. After a few minutes, I summoned all what was left of my strengh and got out of bed. Just one pill, my body kept telling me, I can quit all I want after that one pill. I wanted, no, needed to fell that relaxing chemical seep into my bloodstream.

At my room's door, I halted. I willed my feet to change direction, forcing my begging body to turn around, facing the bathroom. Weakly, I put one foot in front of the other, eventually reaching my destination.

Inside, my stomach finally decided to let it loose, allowing to my system to empty itself. Several minutes later, I slumped, my back against the sink, repulsed by the yellow bile that now settled in the toilet. I flushed, washed my hands, and was about to head back my room when diarrhea kick back in.

When I was done, I found that more of that yellow bile had come out. This can't be good, I thought, I need a doctor. No, corrected my brain, I can't see a doctor, he'll know, he'll tell mum. Pushing these thoughts aside, I left the restroom for the rest that only my bed seemed to provide.

Opening the door, I noticed a couple of small pills on a paperslip and a glass of water nest to my side-lamp. My mother's handwriting assured me that these would put a cork on on my tummy. I popped the pills in my mouth and swallowed, while the water lay forgotten. The normality of the act hit me like a slap in the face.

I thought about my pills again. Urgh, I would kill for an Advil, or an Aspirin.

My head had not been on the pillow for more than one minute when I went out cold.


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